


raindrops

by squidmemesinc



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Aftercare, Fingering, Fluff, Other, Sex Pollen (mentioned but not really featured), aftercare without the stuff that comes before the aftercare tbh, i think??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 17:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidmemesinc/pseuds/squidmemesinc
Summary: Prowl leans his head back, but doesn’t move other than little jumps in his field sparking against Lockdown’s fingers, surrendering to either Lockdown or the nanites, whichever gets to him first.And of course, it’s Lockdown. It always is.





	raindrops

**Author's Note:**

> Man. I've been wanting to write this ship for ages and I did actually write about 5k of a thing, that this was part of. But I couldn't make the "plot" work in a way that I liked/was comfortable with? So basically I cropped out this small bit of porn (there was more, sorry) and made it established relationship essentially in the context of something else I read but I'm ashamed to link it because I couldn't finish it because it was making me feel too many things.
> 
> Whatever. I wanted fluff anyway even if in the context of the show there would need to be a lot of build up around it, prrrrobably. Don't worry about it, maybe, and just enjoy this, if that's a thing you're into.

It feels like rain. But the smell is wrong. No fresh, wet leaves here; he’s inside.

Prowl lifts himself up and instantly regrets it. All of his joints and plating are aching. He’d offlined, after...he lost track of how many times they’d interfaced. It had been a few hours, at least. He squints up into the spray of water coming down over them. It’s nice and cool on his frame, still permeated by a dull heat. He takes a quick stock of his systems. They’re recovering, but still reporting foreign bodies as the auto repair thoroughly tingles through his frame. Prowl slumps back, only belatedly realizing it’s into Lockdown’s arms.

“Still?” he asks quietly, feeling as though he’s being punished for something. Maybe it’s for agreeing to finally let Lockdown delve into his (apparently vast) array of mods he has  _ specifically  _ for interfacing. Prowl doesn’t know why he agreed; interfacing is almost always Lockdown’s idea anyway. It’s not as if he doesn’t enjoy it, but it’s still hard for him not to be a little embarrassed. Especially now that he’s remembering all the ways they just went at it, fueled on by the aphrodisiac properties of nanites spinning up a hot charge in their systems that could only be rid by burning through them. He enjoyed himself, but at the cost of quite a bit of composure. He gets the sense he won’t hear the end of it for a while.

“Smaller engine, less power,” Lockdown reasons. He’d been focusing his efforts on Prowl the last few rounds, having satisfied his own desires, which is really saying a lot for Lockdown, nanites or no. They’re in the wash racks, on the tile floor, and Prowl has no energy to address the slow buzz of heat still building within him. He’s tucked between Lockdown’s legs, back to chest, and Lockdown’s hands are gently running over his plating, lighting up trails of heat. 

It’s pleasant now, rather than urgent, but Prowl is still tired. He leans his head back, but doesn’t move other than little jumps in his field sparking against Lockdown’s fingers, surrendering to either Lockdown or the nanites, whichever gets to him first. 

And of course, it’s Lockdown. He feels clean, and the juxtaposition of the heat inside him with the water from the racks coming down on them is nice, but he keens a little when Lockdown’s fingers sneak between his legs and rub at his anterior node. Prowl’s hips twitch open slightly and he leans further back into the bounty hunter. Fresh shocks of pleasure pulse through his frame, making him shiver, but he can feel this will be the last time, finally, so there’s that.

Lockdown circles his fingers against Prowl’s nub, tracing his other hand along the inside of his thigh plating and tracing the sensation up through him. Prowl shivers more and makes soft sounds that can barely be heard over the torrent of the shower above them. His fingers will occasionally move to tease over the opening between his lips without pressing too much in, just a light touch that tickles pleasure up in him rather than more friction to his valve, which is throbbing a bit from their past encounters. The hand on his thigh moves to his abdomen, pulling him closer against Lockdown in a strangely intimate gesture. He can hear Lockdown’s engine purr against his back, whereas his is still making a bit of a racket as he tries to come down from this high.

Lockdown’s mouth is tucked into his shoulder, near his audial. “More?” he posits, tracing a finger around the soft, inner portions of his slit, rubbing in deeper without hitting any nodes, just keeping to the sensory material. 

Prowl tries to speak, but doesn’t manage more than a little static. He reboots his vocalizer and presses his back deeper into Lockdown’s chest, hooking his knee around the outside of Lockdown’s thigh and lifting his hips into his hand a bit more so he’s opened up. “Yes,” he says with a tired nod, “just a bit.”

Lockdown kisses the back of his neck, turning it into a gentle bite before he works his fingers in a bit deeper into Prowl. In the frenzy before, he couldn’t keep track of all the noises he was making, but now in the quiet space of the shower, his moan punctuates the pattering of the water against the tile. Lockdown’s fingers squeeze deeper into him, stroking slowly and purposefully along the charged nodes inside him so that he’s pressing himself flush against the other bot. His body is tight with yet another imminent release. He sighs at the lewd sound of Lockdown’s fingers squishing against his frame, but can’t help feeling more pleasure shoot through him at this slow pace they don’t often experience. 

It only takes Lockdown’s palm grinding into his node before he’s coming again. He strains against Lockdown briefly, legs shaking, and then eventually slumps down again, allowing himself to get comfortable in the bounty hunter’s embrace. The last bit of heat quietly leaves him and he feels like it would take a miracle for him to not just fall into stasis right here. The sound is pleasant, if he offlines his optics, and the feel of Lockdown’s solid heat behind him is also nice. 

“Don’t fall asleep here, now,” Lockdown says, patting Prowl’s plating idly. 

“This is your fault,” Prowl mumbles a bit rudely.

Lockdown isn’t bothered, judging by the way he laughs. He heaves himself up, pulling Prowl along with him. It’s not so bad, now that he’s doing it—being on his pedes. But he hardly feels like he’s ever needed a recharge this badly. He’s guided out of the room where Lockdown takes a towel and slings it around him, fingers pressing it into all the little creases on his back, holding him to his chest now. 

He only belatedly realizes Lockdown is looking at him, and he looks back. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lockdown says, clearly trying not to smile. “You were great, kid,” he says, leaning down and kissing Prowl softly on the lips.


End file.
